Sailors sail, bakers bake, and writers write.
I am a writer, which ipso facto means that I write.
(I also bake sometimes, so there is a bit of a grey area.)
The purpose of this blog, if such a thing is said to have a purpose, is to force me to write, even if it’s something dumb. Which it generally is. But the thing about that is that I’m always writing, even when it’s not for Pryorball. Movie reviews for Cinapse, spec scripts, grocery lists… it’s always something.
So when it comes to this here site, all I feel I’m required to do is squeeze out a certain amount of words on a generally regular schedule. Doesn’t really matter what I’m saying or if it’s any good, as long as I get it done. Because practice is the stepbrother of mastery.
Which in a certain sense makes it comforting to know that almost no one is reading. That I can shoot whatever nonsense into the void and it will fall on deaf ears. Or blind eyes.
(Choosing the appropriate metaphor is key to getting your point across, on the off chance that you have one.)
I don’t, by the way. Have a point, I mean.
Today, I’m just squeezin’ out those words…
Pryorball. 